


Emotional Investment

by Not_You



Series: Will Graham And The Accidental Harem [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Queer Character, Comfort/Angst, Developing Relationship, Emotional Infidelity, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Polyamory Negotiations, Queer Het, Recreational Drug Use, Relationship Negotiation, Sibling Abuse, adults using their words, mason is such a piece of shit argh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-17 15:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5876290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Alana met Margot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Alana has heard many evocative phrases used to describe misguided and evil human behavior, but the one that comes to her now is 'lower than a snake's belly in a wagon rut.' She first heard it from Will, and it fits the current situation entirely too well. Ever since Alana learned the truth about Hannibal, she has been dealing with her own feelings about psychiatry and the terrible, endless goddamn yawning void of self-doubt. And now here she is, crying in her car because she's a fucked up and worthless excuse for a doctor, the kind of twisted predator that goes after her own vulnerable patients. She has Will and Beverly at home, and she just keeps thinking about how brave and beautiful and damaged poor Margot Verger is. 

Alana doesn't want to sit quietly and listen, saying calm, bland, professional things. She wants to hold Margot tight, to rub her narrow little back and tell her that she's perfect, a pearl hurled into the pig trough. She wants to run her fingers through that long, silky hair, and to cover the lines of worry and pain on her face with kisses. Alana wants to save her, and it's the ache in her heart that makes her feel the most disgusting. Sexual attraction is one thing. Alana is attracted to women, if anything, slightly more than men, and Margot is lovely. But to feel like this, the way she feels when Will or Beverly is fragile, haunted by even more terrible memories than her own, is a massive betrayal.

Of course she has to go home at last. She's tempted to just drive all night and check into a hotel somewhere, but of course she doesn't do something so selfish. Beverly and Will would be frantic, and she's on the verge of tears again as she turns into the driveway of what used to be Will's little house in the middle of nowhere and is now their little house in the middle of nowhere. She parks the car, takes a deep breath, and gets out. She has it under control. She really does, until the dogs come gamboling out to greet her, stupidly happy as they are any other day.

When Alana bursts into tears, Winston whines and presses himself against her leg, and Buster runs a circle around her, barking and setting off most of the others. She pats whoever she can reach and stumbles inside, keening in misery, her nose already full of snot. This is full-on ugly crying, and she drags in big, hiccupy breaths.

Beverly is already getting up from the armchair to greet her, and mutters something in Korean when she sees the state Alana is in, running to pull her into her arms. “Baby, baby,” she murmurs, stroking Alana's hair, “what is it?” Alana struggles to breathe evenly enough to speak, while Will finishes stabilizing things in the kitchen so he can join them, looking almost as confused and terrified as he had when he was imprisoned for Hannibal's crimes. 

“S-sorry,” Alana manages to sob as Will puts his arms around them both. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, we have to talk.” Will somehow manages to look even worse, but Beverly keeps it together and takes command of the situation, sitting Alana and Will down on the edge of the bed, collecting the dogs, grabbing some paper towels, and pouring three glasses of whiskey. She settles on the side of Alana from Will, and they bracket her in with their warmth and their silence, all three of them sipping the raw liquor.

“So,” Beverly says at last, “wanna try that again?”

Alana sighs, sniffling and mopping at her face with a paper towel, two big tears rolling down her cheeks the second she's done. “I realized something really horrible about myself today,” she says, her voice a hoarse squeak of misery. Beverly puts her arm around her, and Will does the same on the other side. Alana shudders, taking a deep breath and wiping her eyes again. “I-- I'm...” the phrases 'attracted to' and 'unprofessionally interested in' cross her mind, but there's no reason to compound her error by lying about it now. “I'm in love with a patient. So I'm a failure as a doctor, and being emotionally unfaithful to both of you, and I love you so fucking much and I'm so fucking sorry.” Her voice becomes a squeak again as her throat gets thick with fresh tears, and she buries her face in another paper towel.

Will just swallows so hard Alana can hear his throat click and holds her a little tighter, but Beverly speaks. “Alana, honey. A real failure of a doctor wouldn't be so upset.” She kisses the top of Alana's head, rubbing her back a little. “And we know you love us.”

“What's she like?” Will asks, so softly Alana almost doesn't hear him. As suddenly as she started crying again, she's dry-eyed, and can actually look up at him.

“Like a feral cat that doesn't want to be feral,” Alana says. “She's... she's very strong. Very sharp.” She remembers Margot's despair in today's session and the tears well up again. “Oh god, she's in so much pain,” Alana whimpers, and Will and Beverly just hold her for a long time until the hiss of something boiling over makes Will curse and jump up to fix it. Alana lets out a watery giggle, and Beverly smiles at her.

“That's better,” she says softly. “Let's clean you up and have dinner, that'll help.”

Beverly is a huge believer in eating just enough of one's feelings to be able to deal with the rest, and Alana hasn't had anything since breakfast, which is probably helping to make her so fragile. In Hannibal's wake, all of them are pescatarian, not that that would have saved them from becoming unwitting cannibals. It's still a comfort, and she knows it does Will good to occasionally think of himself as a provider. Tonight they just eat perfect trout without a word until Beverly gives Alana a significant look. She sighs, and takes a deep breath. “Okay. I'm most distressed because I'm pretty sure I'm actually in love. It's the emotional investment that upsets me. Attractive women are everywhere, but feeling like this...”

Will nods, putting a hand over Alana's and squeezing gently. “I understand.”

“Can we meet her after you refer her?” Beverly adds, and Alana tries not to gawp because she hasn't thought that far ahead yet. “What? You're gonna have to.”

“Yeah,” Alana says, taking a swig of her Heineken in its nice, safe, mass-market can. “I have to.” She feels tearful again, and now it's at the thought of never seeing Margot again and she fucking hates herself.

Will sighs, and laces their fingers together. “Alana. It's okay.”

It isn't okay, not really, but she's able to at least try to sleep with Will on one side and Beverly on the other, neither of them repulsed. More than anything, Alana is afraid of becoming like Hannibal, a psychiatrist doing as much harm as possible. Hopefully, as long as she doesn't trigger bad memories in the people he tried to destroy, she'll be all right. They might all be too damaged to notice at this point, but she has to trust in _something_. She hasn't felt this fragile since those terrible months after Will was arrested, and now she turns and nestles her face against his chest. It's comforting to feel him, so warm but not hot or sweaty, those awful days behind them now. Beverly adds to the soothing effect by cuddling up to her back, safe and here and alive.


	2. Chapter 2

Margot has reminded herself over and over that Alana is just another professional, but it still hurts to be fobbed off. It had been nice, talking to another woman about how fucked up things are at home, but Margot doesn't get have to have nice things that aren't tangible. The worst thing is probably how apologetic Alana looks. Nobody every wants to say why they're referring you, but Margot can read the hunted look in Alana's eyes as she hands over the business card of a colleague.

“It's okay,” she says softly, taking the card and tucking it into her purse. “Mason got to you. I understand.” The look Alana gives her is fucking heartrending, and Margot gets up to leave, so she won't have to see it.

“Margot,” Alana says when her hand is on the doorknob, and the way her voice cracks makes Margot stop and look back. Alana's dark eyes are full of misery and guilt, and for far from the first time, Margot just wants to hold her. “It's not that,” she says, looking fucking haunted. They're close enough now for Margot to just lean in and kiss her, and she almost does before Alana presses another business card into her hand. “I can't give you a reason on the clock,” she says, “but _call me_.”

“I will,” Margot says, and leaves, turning it over in her mind for the whole ride home. At least this driver is one of the decent ones, and doesn't say anything creepy or even really bother her at all. The same can of course never be said for Mason, but at least today he's more involved in his own concerns. It isn't even that hard to sneak out and make the call.

Margot is nowhere near stupid enough to use her regular phone for this. Verger funds pay for that one, and she knows from bitter experience that Mason can track it. A disposable phone bought with cash, on the other hand, works just fine. She takes a ride after dinner, and once she and Bucephalus are hidden among the trees, she uses the light of the phone's cheap little screen to read the number Alana gave her. She's the kind of woman to give her patients a cell phone number, so people can reach her when they're in the middle of a breakdown, but the one Margot is reading now is different. She punches it in carefully, and then sits in the near-dark, watching her horse's breath and her own steam away as she listens to the ringing.

“Hello?” Alana murmurs into her ear, and Margot shivers.

“Hi. You said you had something to tell me.”

“I referred you for personal reasons,” she says, and while the words form a rejection, Margot's heart leaps. It had been even more hateful than usual to imagine what Mason might be holding over Alana. “I can't be professional with you,” Alana confesses, the speaking in an almost panicked rush. “I'll understand if you don't want to see me again, but--”

“I do,” Margot interrupts her. It's so stupid to be smiling like this in the darkening woods, but she can't help it. “Just give me a time and a place, Alana.” She has always called her Dr. Bloom out loud before, and she can feel the impact of her words now.

“I... I hesitate to invite you home, but we need to talk.”

“I don't hesitate to accept,” Margot purrs, “does that help?”

“...It does,” Alana says.

Once the arrangements are made, Margot rides back to the stable, concentrating on not looking too happy. It's effort well-spent, since Mason is hanging around. She sometimes wonders if he really has nothing better to do, or if he just keeps his hand in by tormenting her when he can't find a kid. People are supposed to regress to childhood in the presence of their families, maybe that's the attraction.

“You know,” he says, “with your proclivities, it has always surprised me that you spend so much time with a stallion between your legs."

“With your proclivities, I'm surprised you don't have children,” Margot says, sliding down from the saddle and turning Bucephalus over to a groom, wishing they didn't have so much staff. It would be nice to do this herself, sometime.

Mason laughs. “Margot, Margot, Margot. Always so sharp.” He reaches out like he's going to pinch her cheek, and Margot snarls at him.

“Don't touch me,” she hisses, and he doesn't. He's still a little afraid of her, whatever he says.

“Always so tense,” he says, making a whole exaggerated bit of stage business out of removing one glove to give his busy little hands something to do. Margot takes a deep breath and imagines breaking every single one of the complex little bones with a tack hammer. It's very soothing. “You know it's bad for your health. And your complexion, and you're not getting any younger, Margot.”

“What do you want?” She says, pulling her helmet off and hanging it up.

“I'm just here to ask how therapy was today,” he coos, and it sends a chill over Margot's skin because it looks like Alana got out just in time.

“It was unsatisfying,” she says, putting away the rest of her gear as she composes her performance.

“How so?” He asks, voice dripping with concern. It's a fine line with Mason. He has to destroy happiness wherever he finds it, but tears excite him. Margot has become very good at the balance.

“Another referral,” she says, her voice flat, just barely tinged by worry. “I'm starting to feel like something's wrong with me.” She adds a little sarcasm here, and dials up the worry to match. Her voice when she really is worried, and trying to be tough. She can see that it's working in the way Mason smirks, and it's a struggle to hold onto it until she can escape to her room.

Over the years, Margot has become very vigilant about surveillance in her room. Mason has his ways, and she has hers. Right now she's reasonably sure that the bedroom at least is clear, and she puts together something nice to wear tomorrow. One of the few good things about Mason having all the money is that he has to deal with it, and Margot can get things done while he's in his various meetings. 

Margot has far too much practice living her life in the gaps of Mason's attention, and is able to slip out to Wolf Trap the next afternoon. It's a long drive, and she has plenty of time to worry about everything. By the time she finds the right house she's nothing but a spiky ball of tension, and nearly jumps out of her skin when a pack of dogs come rushing up to the car. She tells herself that she has gotten too used to Mason's various vicious pets. This pack are all wagging their tails, and giving her friendly smiles. Just as she finds the resolve to open the car door, Alana comes out of the house and a man comes around the corner of the building. For a horrible moment of utter panic, Margot thinks he's some operative of Mason's. But then Alana smiles at him, and he smiles back, whistling the whole pack over to him.

“They're all friendly,” Alana says, “but they can be a bit much.” She holds out her hand, blushing. “I'm glad you could make it.”

Margot smiles, squeezing it gently. “So am I.”


	3. Chapter 3

Margot doesn't let go of Alana's hand as they walk up the steps, and it's alarming how natural it feels. Alana finds herself lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently, the way she does with Beverly and Will when they're nervous. Margot gives her a sidelong smile that makes her shiver, and Alana feels lucky and like a terrible person. They sit on the couch while Will goes to the kitchen to fetch drinks.

“Beer or whiskey?” Alana asks Margot.

She raises their joined hands, kissing Alana's knuckles. “Whiskey,” she purrs, and Alana has to swallow hard before she's sure her voice will come out normally. 

“Whiskey for Margot!” she calls, and a moment later Will reappears, bearing an actual goddamn tray. All he needs is a ruffled apron and a string of pearls.

“Ms. Verger,” Will says, proffering the tray. Margot doesn't let go of Alana's hand, nodding graciously as she plucks one tumbler of whiskey from the tray.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and Will smiles at her, giving Alana her can of beer and settling into the armchair with his own glass, setting the empty tray on the end table beside him. He holds his glass in both hands, taking a long, slow sip, eyes unblinking over the rim. Margot drinks the same way, and that resemblance makes everything clearer, somehow. Alana chuckles, and Margot glances over at her.

“Yes?”

“You and Will remind me of one another.”

“So you have a type?”

“Neither of you reminds me of Beverly,” she says, and Will chuckles.

“So. How many people are involved here?” Margot asks, tossing her head to get a lock of hair out of her eyes.

“You'd make four,” Will says. “And I get that you're gay and I'll just have to cope somehow.”

Margot grins, brief and bright. “At least you're pretty.”

In retrospect, the weirdest thing is probably how comfortable they are together. Even when Beverly gets home, she just starts making noises about how Margot really ought to stay to dinner, they have so much. There is more than enough for four, and it feels as if Margot has always been at their table, flirting with Alana and Beverly and needling Will. Alana has noticed that, over the course of their ostensibly professional relationship, how quickly Margot opens up with people who actually listen.

All of this makes it very alarming when she starts crying over dessert. “Honey,” Beverly blurts, “if you don't like pineapple jelly you don't have to eat it!”

Margot laughs through her tears, scrubbing at her eyes. “I just... I like you guys, and that means I shouldn't spend much time here.” Alana takes her hand under the table, squeezing it. Margot squeezes back. “I don't know what Alana has told you...”

“Nothing,” Will says, “she feels unprofessional enough for falling for you.”

Margot chuckles, still sniffling. “Well. I'm not even technically your patient anymore. You can tell them the whole sad fucking story after I leave. I've already stayed too long.”

She's technically right, and Alana knows that for her own safety she should err on the side of caution, but it's hard to let Margot go, and Beverly insists that she at least take a few more bites before she calls her driver. Margot does like pineapple jelly after all, remarking on the fresh taste and interesting texture, which of course gets Beverly talking about using agar instead of gelatin, and the things it lets a cook get away with. It's soothing, polite conversation, and Alana is mostly content to just watch these three people she loves (and she can admit to herself that she already loves Margot) getting to know each other around the table. She realizes that this whole thing does feel like a first date, but like a good one.

When Margot finally declares that she really must make that call, Beverly and Will start clearing the table and washing the dishes with none of their usual laziness. Will retreats to the heart of the kitchen while Beverly makes very pointed remarks about how nice out it is today, practically shoving them out the door to wait on the sunlit porch. It really is nice out today, and more importantly they're alone together and it's not in Alana's office. The knowledge comes over her like the sudden chills that come with fever. 

Margot smiles, and takes her hand again. “Glider?”

“Glider,” Alana agrees. Will's lone chair is still out here, but they've added a glider and a hammock to give three adults and their visitors room to sit comfortably. The glider is a nice piece, and seats the two of them with room to spare. They pretend it doesn't, and lean on each other in the center. Margot rests her head on Alana's shoulder and it feels like belongs there. Alana takes a deep breath and laces their fingers together while Margot sighs, looking out across the fields.

“I shouldn't be here. Mason will find a way to get rid of you.”

“Better men have tried,” Alana says, and squeezes Margot's hand. She squeezes back and gazes up at Alana with so much pain and hope in her eyes that Alana sways the tiny distance to kiss her almost before she knows what she's doing.

She sighs into what she means to be just a tender brush of lips on lips. Margot has other plans, melting into it as she slides one hand into Alana's hair to hold her in place. It reminds her a little of the way Will grips her. He's learning from Beverly's rough playfulness and cheerful sadism, but sometimes he still touches her like he doesn't think he's allowed. Now Margot is doing it, but her desperation is better hidden than Will's was early on, her timidity even more graceful. Alana shudders, wrapping her arms around Margot and pulling her almost into her lap, holding her tightly, the way she has wanted to since far too early in their sessions at the office. Margot trembles and clings to her for a long moment before resolutely pulling away and bringing out her phone.

It's hard to watch Margot wall herself up again and disappear into that black car, looking to Alana like some kind of terrible and hungry insect as it purrs away. She jumps when Beverly hugs her from behind.

“Sorry,” she says, rubbing Alana's arms as if it's cold. “You okay?”

“...I guess,” Alana says, and then starts to cry. 

It has been building up for some time, but it isn't as painful as the last time, because the guilt is gone. She loves Margot and Margot is in terrible danger and that's not okay, but it's nothing to be ashamed of. Beverly just holds her and rocks a little, humming some soothing thing Alana doesn't recognize.

“Come on back inside,” she murmurs, and draws Alana back into the house. Will pokes his head out of the kitchen and responds to whatever look Beverly gives him by following them upstairs. There's still a low bed by the fire because that's a nice thing to have, and much more comfortable than a couch, but there's a security to their nest upstairs that Alana needs right now. She's still weeping softly as they press her between them, warm and safe with the dogs piling onto the bed around them, but it's bearable now. She clings to Beverly and loves the strength of Will's arms around them both.

“I love you,” Alana whispers, meaning them both, and Beverly kisses her forehead.

“We know, baby,” she murmurs, and Will just nods, holding them a little more tightly.


	4. Chapter 4

Margot hasn't had anyone to sneak around for in a long time, and as summer turns to fall she has to admit to herself that right now she has three. It stops being just about Alana early on. Will knows all about having reality twisted, and having no one believe it when horrible things are happening. Alana's guilt about letting Will down comforts her, because it lets her see that Alana really cares. Beverly is practical and playful, almost obnoxiously balanced in the face of everything she has been through. All three of them know what it is to feel crazy and to have nightmares, and as sad as that is, it draws Margot in because she knows that they understand.

The really hilarious thing about Margot's untenable situation is that there is an obvious way out of it. It doesn't seem to have occurred to Mason, but of course he's not even capable of denying his own whims enough to maintain even the illusion of a steady girlfriend. Hell, Mason can't even manage a good reputation with a particular escort service. Margot has helped three very young girls escape the house with bruises they hadn't signed up for, each from a different establishment. She supposes it's Mason's idea of a concession that each one was just eighteen. There haven't been any of those lately, at least. Margot has to assume that word gets around, and she's glad of it. She does what she can to watch Mason, but she can't keep track of him all the time. 

Maybe Mason has thought of Margot's escape hatch, but assumes she's too noble to have a baby around someone like him. Margot may have gotten all the human decency between the two of them, but she's still a Verger. She's desperate enough to give a hostage to her own brutal fortune. She checks the calendar on her disposable phone, where her peak fertility is rapidly approaching. She needs to ask soon. Mason showed her his pigs the other day, being trained to bite on a dummy wearing her clothes, with a fucking recording of her screams playing from the last nightmare she had before she learned to keep quiet no matter how bad it is. She hasn't screamed when Mason hurts her in a long time. He enjoyed it too much even when they were small.

Margot has new nightmares now, about Alana beaten bloody like she had been when they were fourteen, sobbing in the shower like Margot had done. There's no one to comfort her, not even the old housekeeper who had eventually come up with fresh clothes in hand and tears in her eyes. Margot nearly smothers herself in her pillow stifling a cry of Alana's name, because she has to keep everything she can from Mason.

She knows that she hasn't succeeded nearly as well as she would like when Alana texts her to say that quiet men in bad suits are watching Beverly. Margot gives her all the information she can on Mason's various mob contacts, and reminds herself over and over that Beverly is a trained professional, that she killed Hannibal Lecter and that she can take care of herself.

Margot doesn't break until Mason sends a photo to the phone he pays for. It's obviously a shot from one of his agents, sent to him the same way. It's actually a pretty cute picture of Will playing with the dogs, if not for context. She thinks of Mason let loose on Will's dogs and almost vomits, her hand to her mouth as she shudders and fights to breathe. She's actually safer here, in many ways, but she can't stand it a moment longer.

None of the cars are legally hers, of course. That would be too much like freedom. There is a little freedom in Mason knowing where the people she loves and is coming to love live. It won't make things any worse when he sends someone to collect the car. She throws a few things into the passenger seat and drives away while Mason is at a business dinner that she hopes to a god she doesn't believe in is actually a business dinner. Without her around there's no one to watch Mason. Once she's off the property she drives quickly, but not fast enough to get pulled over, her wide eyes looking around for threats.

By the time Margot gets out to Wolf Trap, she's exhausted, covered in cold sweat. Seeing nothing on her tail makes her more nervous than knowing for a fact that something is. She leaves the car at what she guesses is the property line, with what she thinks of as Mason's phone on the seat. She keeps her real one, walking through the dark with a bag in one hand and a gun in the other. She's no good with it, but at point blank range she doesn't have to be. She lets out a cracked little laugh, and thinks, _I fear neither death nor pain, only a cage._ That's probably not how that line goes, but it's right. Mason wants her alive to suffer. It would be sad to die now, but she knows she would prefer it to capture.

She has her gun out and cocked when she knocks on the door, because anyone might be behind it. Margot isn't even relieved when she sees Alana. That doesn't come until she steps inside and sees Will and Beverly in their underwear, sprawled on the bed by the cold fireplace and sharing a bowl of popcorn. _Pride and Prejudice_ keeps going for a moment as Alana shuts the door behind Margot. Beverly pauses it as Margot puts the safety on again, taking a deep breath that's much shakier than she wants it to be.

“All you all right?” Alana asks, and Margot nods.

“I was afraid you wouldn't be.” Her voice sounds almost normal, and she's proud of herself.

“Margot,” Beverly says, getting up and providing an agreeably distracting visual, even now, “I'm an FBI agent. They have to at least try to make it look like an accident.”

Margot laughs, and slumps into Will's armchair to collect herself as Beverly gently takes the gun and Alana vanishes for a moment to reappear with two fingers of whiskey for Margot. She laughs, thinking about pregnancy again, taking the glass and downing its contents in one gulp.

“Thank you,” she rasps.

“Come to the bed with us,” Alana says, and Margot gets to her feet, stumbling over and sitting down on the edge of it to pull off her boots. Alana helps her with them as Beverly puts a blanket around her shoulders. Will solemnly offers her their mixing bowl of popcorn, and Margot laughs, taking a handful. It's still warm, and the butter is real, reminding her that she hasn't eaten since an early dinner with Mason, where her stomach had been knotted like a fist.

“Can I stay here?” she says, and they all look at her strangely.

“Of _course_ you can stay here!” Beverly says, hugging her. “We weren't sure if you had an exit strategy and didn't know what we could offer, but yeah, we're totally keeping you.”

Margot isn't as relieved as she should be, since this is only the beginning of her impositions. For now she just lets them hug her and fuss over her and rattle around to find something to feed her while Will unpauses the movie, providing soothing background noise and a friendly shoulder to lean on as the dogs make hopeful faces until Beverly gives them each a morsel of cheese.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is full of Margot's angst and may therefore make you feel some kind of way. Read with care and skip with impunity.


	5. Chapter 5

There is something bothering Margot beyond the numerous known quantities, but Alana can't tell what it is. It's a strange, guilty tension, nothing like that hunted quality that is so much a part of her after a lifetime of abuse. It isn't even the related self-esteem issues making her feel like she doesn't deserve kindness. Alana saw that one many times in her office, along with so many other types of tension and pain. This is closer to the look she had when Alana referred her. There's a quality of anticipation to it, of tensing her whole being against some blow to come.

It's the next day before Alana says anything about it, though. For now she holds Margot tightly while they finish the movie and Margot finishes the bowl of reheated vegetable stew Beverly gave her. She keeps glancing over at Will, but starts trembling every time Alana loosens her hold even a little. Beverly cuddles up behind her, watching over her shoulder as Elizabeth very politely tells Lady Catherine to get bent. Margot is drinking the last of the broth when the credits start to roll, and she yawns as she sets the empty bowl on the floor.

“Where am I sleeping?” she asks, and Alana looks to the others, unsure what they're all right with.

“The bed will hold four,” Will says.

“I feel like you need all the snuggles you can get,” Beverly tells Margot, and kisses her cheek.

Alana finds fresh towels for Margot's shower while Will patrols the house and Beverly starts making calls. Alana feels like her job is a trivial one, but then Margot is there at the bathroom door, all pink and damp and how could wrapping Margot's skinny little body in warmth ever be trivial? Alana hugs her tightly, and for a while they just stand there in the hall, clinging to each other.

“Do they really not mind?” Margot murmurs, and Alana chuckles.

“They'd say if they did. And there are other bedrooms. If anyone starts feeling weird, they have options.” She smiles at Margot. “Dogs for company, even.”

Margot smiles back, and by the time they get downstairs again Will has made the bed with nurse's corners and Beverly is tucked in near the middle, her old stuffed dog beside her. 

“Purple Dog for maximum comfort,” she says, and Margot smiles, crawling in next to her. 

Will joins them from Beverly's side, and Alana takes the edge between Margot and the world, wrapping around her from behind and nuzzling into her shoulder while Beverly squishes Purple Dog between them and Will mirrors Alana, his face hidden in Beverly's sleek hair. Margot drops of quickly, completely exhausted, and Beverly soon follows, leaving Alana and Will to watch other over their heads.

“So,” Will murmurs, deadpan, “you awake?”

“No,” Alana says, sticking her tongue out at him. Will chuckles, and they both go silent as Margot stirs, making an unhappy little noise and then pressing back into Alana and relaxing again, so small when she curls up like this. Will kisses the top of Beverly's head and she coos in her sleep. Alana loves all of them so much that she can hardly bear it, and it takes a long time for her to sleep.

The morning is a blur for Alana, who wakes up late and has to bolt to her office. All that really stands out is the long and hungry farewell kiss Margot gives her. At work, where she juggles her schedule to keep her time away from home to a minimum, can't stop thinking about Margot, her desire and fear for her. With the information Margot can give them, the FBI might finally be able to move against Mason Verger, suspected in so many atrocities but with no proven connections. Margot might finally be safe.

Alana rushes home at the end of the day, desperate for Margot in ways that have nothing to do with the danger all of them are in. The more time she spends with Margot without even an attempt at professional boundaries, the more it puts her rocky start with Will into perspective. It sounds like something out of her mom's stash of dirty romance novels, but it's true. She had been afraid of how much she had wanted him then. She's only used to this kind of thing with women, this consuming physical chemistry. Alana wants to bury her face in Margot's hair, to kiss every inch of her skin, to trace each of her too-obvious bones with loving fingertips. Alana wants to smell her and taste her and find out the exact size and shape of her clit, and its texture on Alana's tongue. 

She still cringes to think of the various mixed signals she gave Will at the time, but at least now she knows why she was afraid. Simple human fear of the strange. Every other man in her life, Hannibal included, had been a more gradual thing, a more cerebral slide from good conversation to wanting to put her tongue in his mouth. Now she's straddling Margot in Will's armchair, her boots still on and her briefcase and blazer on the floor as she cups Margot's face in both hands and kisses her like nothing else in the world matters. Margot whimpers into her mouth, melting under her and sliding bold hands up the back of her skirt to grip her ass, fingertips slipping under the lace edges of her panties.

The sound of opening locks makes Margot tense up, digging her nails into Alana's skin in a way that sends a frisson over her whole body as she looks up just to be sure it's Beverly. It is, and she beams at them as she locks the door again.

“Don't let me stop you. Do you mind if I watch?”

Alana looks into Margot's eyes, deferring to her on all matters of boundaries. “I don't mind if you watch,” Margot says, not looking away from Alana.

“Awesome,” Beverly says, and because Beverly is the best, she picks up Alana's bag and blazer, and rattles around in the kitchen for a few small eternities before coming back with a drink and stretching out on the couch to sip it and watch as Margot does her best to kiss Alana brainless. Just as it's about to really start working, Margot sighs and pulls away. At first Alana thinks that Margot was wrong about her own ability to handle an audience for this moment.

“I have something I need to ask you guys. All of you, but can we have an all-lady caucus behind Will's back?”

“I don't see why not,” Beverly says, and Alana climbs off of Margot, smoothing her rumpled skirt down again. She gets herself a beer and Margot a cup of tea and all three of them settle onto the couch, with Margot in the middle.

“So... I need something from Will. Something pretty fucking major,” Margot says.

She goes on to outline the condition of the Verger estate. Mason has all the money instead of half of it because Margot is gay. And of course, if she just leaves, she is left without job skills and on an unofficial blacklist anyway, so she'll have no capital to defend herself from any attempt by Mason to recapture her. Or to buy off any of the many people who hate the whole Verger family enough to come after their unwanted prodigal. And of course, if Mason dies, she gets nothing.

“I do have one way out,” she says, with a weird, guilty little smile. “If I have a child, it gets my share, which I will hold in trust. Mason has kept me from finding any kind of appropriate donor, but now...”

“...Are you asking to borrow Will to impregnate yourself?” Beverly asks, and then laughs.

“I know,” Margot says. “I haven't known you guys that long, but... I'd be self-sufficient. It would be my child, and only as much any of yours as you wanted it to be.”

“I want to be the best aunt and my mom will probably spoil it like her own grandchild if you give her half a chance. Alana?”

“I... I honestly like the idea,” she says slowly, “but it's Will's sperm. He's the one to ask.”

Beverly howls with laughter at this turn of phrase, and draws both of them with her.


	6. Chapter 6

Will is about to walk into an ambush. Margot at least is honest enough to think of it that way. Beverly is making his favorite of her mother's comforting stew recipes, and Alana is wearing that wine-red dress that Beverly says is Will's favorite. It does have a sweetheart neckline that makes Alana's tits almost impossible to look away from, and an elegant, train-like effect to the short skirt. Even Margot has taken a little time to primp. There's no sense in asking a man to procreate with you if you don't look fuckable. And even with her issues, the old-fashioned way is better. Less paperwork, they have all the equipment they need right here, and with something closer to a father than some anonymous donor, the kid will have some recourse if anything happens to her. 

Margot has stationed herself by the window, and when Will's car pulls up she runs a nervous hand over her French twist to be sure that every hair is still in place, and checks the clasp of the pendant Alana gave her weeks ago. This is the first time she has felt safe enough to wear something she treasures so much, and she rests her hand over the single opal, trying to center herself. Even if Will says no he won't be vicious, she reminds herself. He is actually a decent human being and won't hurt or humiliate her on purpose.

Will comes in, dressed like somebody's grandfather and wearing those stupid glasses that he totally doesn't need. Margot wonders if he started wearing them in self-defense, so his students wouldn't see how pretty he is and want to eat him alive. It probably doesn't work at all. Beverly beams at him and Alana goes to the door to pluck the glasses off his face and kiss him.

“We have something we need to ask you,” she says softly, and Will chuckles, glancing down at her dress and then over her shoulder to where Beverly is carefully adding fish sauce to the pot.

“I figured,” he says, going to Beverly to kiss her in greeting before taking a beer from the fridge and opening it, feeding Beverly the first sip before coming back to join them.

“Really, Margot needs to ask, but Beverly and I figured we'd try and help your mood.”

“Is it a favor?” Will asks, and Margot can't help laughing. She covers her face as the laughter tries to turn to tears, and takes a deep breath.

“Yeah,” she says, “a really big favor.”

Will sits down beside her to listen, and Alana sits on her other side to hold her hand. As Margot lays out her proposition, Alana holds her hand more and more tightly, and about halfway through Beverly leaves everything simmering to come join them, sitting on Will's other side and taking his hand. Margot really hopes that she doesn't end up splitting everything down the middle with her stupid fucking plan, but it's her only way out. Will makes it easier by keeping his mouth shut. He doesn't say anything the entire time Margot is making her pitch, and takes a long, long swig of beer afterward, looking simultaneously hunted and thoughtful.

“I'm not sure what to say,” is what he does say, at last.

“It's probably wrong that I want to beg you to say yes like a kid who wants a puppy,” Beverly says, and Will laughs, kissing her cheek.

“I think being honest is more important,” Will says, and then studies Margot for a long time. She doesn't know what he's looking for her in her face, but he seems to find it. “Margot,” he says, “if you need a biological heir to be free, I'll help you.”

“Okay,” she says, a little dizzy. “I've... I've been tracking my cycle. Now is probably the time.” There's an awkward silence, and then Beverly laughs.

“Okay, let's try to make this just a little more sexy than a kidney transplant,” she says, and Margot grins at her.

“Well, I am gay.” She sighs, smile fading. “And I do have issues with parts. I'm afraid that the spinach principle might apply to dick for me.”

Will tilts his head in confusion, and Beverly laughs, soft and sad. “If you're forced to have it as a child, you won't like it as an adult.” Alana squeezes Margot's hand so tightly that it's almost painful. It helps.

“Fuck,” Will mutters, and downs the rest of his beer.

“I think some liquid courage might be a good idea,” Margot says, and Beverly hops up.

“I need to check on the food anyway. Beer?”

“Might as well,” Margot says, and Alana seconds the order. Beverly comes back with three cold bottles, and they settle onto the couch, warm and comfortable together in a way that Margot really, really hopes she doesn't ruin. Better to be cast out than to wreck what these three have with each other. They drink slowly, savoring the icy bitterness, and spend the time until dinner talking the situation over, continuing during the meal and after it. Alana is so easy to talk to that it's her job, but Beverly has some remarkable abilities in that department too.

By the time they're washing the dishes together, just Alana and Margot while the others go upstairs to make the bed, everyone is just a little tipsy, the warm and confiding kind that really will help. Margot leans on Alana a little, not nearly as nervous as she thought she would be at this point. When she says so, Alana smiles and kisses her cheek.

“We'll go slowly,” she says, and Margot nuzzles into her shoulder, loving her so much she can hardly stand it.

All the dishes in the rack or the machine, Alana takes Margot upstairs to the spare bedroom to prepare her. She undresses Margot slowly, covering her revealed skin with kisses.

“Beverly and I will be with you,” she says. “We'll hold you and touch you and make sure you're okay.”

Margot nods, and is grateful that Alana gives her half of a pill. Just a little, since she's putting it on top of alcohol, but the effect is noticeable and very welcome. It makes her feel sleepy and smooth and like penises may not be so alarming after all. And this will be Will's. Will is pretty, and smells very nice for a man. When she says so, Alana laughs, helping her into a bathrobe.

“I'm sure he'll be touched to know that,” Alana says, and kisses the back of Margot's neck before taking her arm and leading her to the other room., where Will is already bound to the bed by his wrists and ankles. 

Keeping him tied down makes Margot feel safer, but she's glad to see that it's just with silk scarves. She doesn't want anything heavy, anything suggestive of animal husbandry as practiced by the Verger family. There's another scarf folded twice over Will's eyes, and Beverly is curled up beside him, stroking his hair and murmuring into his ear. The lights are off except for a small lamp and several candles. Beverly's hair is loose and gleaming, and Margot stands and stares because this is her first time seeing Beverly naked, and it's even better than she would have expected. Beverly is lithe and sleek with muscle, nothing like Margot's invisible, wiry strength or Alana's taut curves. Her skin is flawless, glowing a deeper gold than Will's in the candlelight, and Margot wants to map every inch of it with her tongue.

“About time you joined us,” she says, grinning.


	7. Chapter 7

Alana meant what she said about going slowly. One of their first purchases as a real live triad had been a big enough bed, and now there's plenty of room for Margot to stretch out beside Will, exploring him a bit even if she keeps getting distracted by Beverly. Alana doesn't blame her, Beverly is very distracting. It’s hard enough getting out of her dress and watching them at the same time, and she doesn't have Beverly's nipples in her face, sweet and hard and brown and begging to be sucked. Poor Will has to just listen to the tiny smacking noises and Beverly's low moans, helpless to do anything about it. Feeling sorry for him, Alana curls up on his other side and kisses him. He whimpers into her mouth, stretching his neck to deepen the kiss, soft and hungry and so sweet. Alana loves kissing him, and indulges herself for a long slow, time, letting Will consume her.

“All right,” Beverly gasps, “I think it's time you got back on task, young lady.”

Margot giggles, and Alana looks up to see her turning toward Will. “Yes, Ms. Katz,” she coos, and smiles at Will. Alana is glad that they haven't overdone it. Margot is loose but bright-eyed and very present. It probably helps that Beverly is spooning her, her face buried in Margot's hair.

“You know, Will,” Margot says, gently touching his face, “you're not as hairy as I would have expected from this.”

“Th-that's a good thing, right?” he whispers, and she smiles, putting her hand on his chest.

“I think so,” she says, and kisses him on the mouth, chaste and almost friendly. Will kisses back, melting into it a little because he loves kissing more than anyone Alana has ever been with.

Margot giggles, nuzzling his cheek, and Will smiles. Alana kisses him, and rubs a slow circle over his chest. He's about half-hard, and it's a good thing Margot has said that size is no real issue. She follows Alana's glance downward and then meets her eyes, raising one eyebrow.

Alana laughs, and Will flushes down to his collarbones, wiggling a little. “Alana...” he whines, and she kisses him again.

“We're just admiring you, dear,” she says.

“I've only had one dildo bigger than you,” Margot tells him, “and the material irritated me and I had to throw it out. Hey, do you still have your foreskin? I'm not really an expert at this.”

Will laughs. “Yeah, I do. I hear it's nice.”

“It makes you so much easier to jack off,” Beverly says, reaching around Margot to pat Will's belly and then lower, finding his cock and giving it a friendly squeeze. “And it's all soft.”

Margot watches in fascination. “It really is like a big clit, isn't it?”

“That's one way to think of it,” Beverly says, grinning. Will makes a tiny little whimpering noise and squirms. Beverly gives him a consoling pat on the thigh and then slips a hand into Margot's robe to squeeze her breast. “Now, we have lube, but let's see if we're gonna need it or not.” 

Margot shivers and leans back into her, and soon Beverly has the robe pushed down to her waist, groping Margot with that attentive and gentle sweetness that Alana loves so much. There hasn't been time for much more between Margot and Alana than some desperate, mostly-clothed fumbling, but Alana knows how perfectly Margot's breasts fit into the palm of her hand. They fit into Beverly's, too, and Margot shivers and sighs as Beverly discovers the right way to let her grind her own hard little nearly-red nipples into her palms. Beverly wraps a leg over Margot's hip and kisses the back of her neck as Alana rubs soothing circles on Will's chest and belly, pressing soft kisses to his neck and shoulders and then running her hands over the compact strength of his arms, all the while watching Margot and the way the icy grey of her eyes softens to something like a welcome raincloud as Beverly holds her like the precious thing she is. 

Margot presses against Will's side, sliding her leg over his and making him moan quietly, like he's not sure he's allowed. His fists clench with the effort to keep quiet, and she sits up to kiss and nuzzle one open. 

“It's all right to enjoy this,” she says, pressing a kiss to the very center of his palm, where the lines form a triangle. Will bites his lip, opening his hand for her to kiss it again and then gently suck on the salty skin as he moans, quickly losing his battle to stay quiet.

“Is it?” he whimpers, and he sounds so fucking vulnerable that Alana can't bear it, and nestles down beside him again, cupping his face in both hands and kissing him in that slow, firm way that he loves so much.

“Yes,” she tells him, “yes, acushla, it is.”

Will lets out a helpless little cry, muffled by her mouth, and she glances down to see that Margot has gripped his cock in one hand, curiously stroking it. “Wow,” she says, a little breathless, “You're really wet.” Will whimpers, his cock pulsing as a bead of precome wells up. “Yeah,” she squeaks, 'I don't think we're gonna need any lube.”

Beverly and Alana help her straddle Will as if this is a horseback riding lesson. Equestrienne that she is, Margot certainly doesn't need one, but there's a soothing sense of ritual and group cohesion to this. She lets a little flicker of Hannibal's voice come and then go again. She has the easiest time not letting the memories trip her up. It's probably because he was her teacher first. Horrifying as his truth may have been, he had been an excellent mentor, and therefore already a resident of her mind. It feels unfair, the way she can just skim across a memory of Hannibal like a flat stone over water to be present in the moment, but this is a moment where being present is really the only option. Margot is slowly sliding along Will, frotting her clit against his cock and making him pant and moan, thrusting up against her but of course not trying to push in.

“Good boy,” Alana murmurs, kissing his forehead and his eyelids through the blindfold, and Will keens, a weak, wobbling little sound.

“God, he got wetter when you said that,” Margot breathes, and Will lets out a noise that's somewhere between a sob and a moan.

“He kinda has this thing about being talked about and treated like an object,” Beverly says. “We thought that'd be too intense to introduce here, but if it's just happening...”

“Green,” Will gasps, shaking as Margot pins him to the bed with her hips, just holding in place for a moment. “I m-mean, if you want. Ohfuck.”

Margot laughs, and leans forward to kiss him, this one much more lingering and deep than the first. Will moans, shivering as Alana reaches between them, fingertips seeking Margot's clit and finding it, hard and tight, a tiny and insolent thing that Alana loves touching already. Like Margot, it's more sensitive than it seems, and Margot hisses and squirms a little until Alana finds just the right way to circle it with one fingertip. Margot pants, each exhale harsh and loud, while Will mewls at the incidental contact.

“You ready?” Beverly murmurs into Margot's ear, and she nods. 

“Green,” she adds, “or whatever.”

She's slick down to the middle of her thighs now, and Alana feels a little lightheaded to be able to start close to Margot's knee and then just glide her fingers on up. Margot sighs, shifting her hips and chasing Alana's fingertips as she just teases the edges of her slit.

“Line him up, Beverly,” Alana says, and Beverly grips Will's cock in one hand.

“Here, let me help you,” she says, and strokes Margot with the head of Will's cock a few times while he whimpers and spills precome all over her fingers.

Margot curses breathlessly, and sinks down onto it.


	8. Chapter 8

Margot was never worried about Will fitting, and he slides into place, warm and slick and filling her up. And it's been so long that most of the sense memory is gone, and this is nothing like The Thing With Mason, as she tends to call it. Will is so sweet, so tender and open under her, and Alana and Beverly keep passing her back and forth for kisses, Alana making those almost painful circles on her clit, the pleasure sweet and sharp as honey while Beverly squeezes her tits and Will throbs inside her like he's going to fucking explode, making these amazing soft little noises that are almost as good as a woman's. His pretty mouth is hanging open, and after a while she can't resist pushing her first two fingers into it. He moans and sucks them eagerly, and Margot groans.

When she pulls her fingers out, they're so slick that she has to ask, “Is it okay if I put these in Will's ass?” She wouldn't really do it without asking him, but she can feel him actually get harder inside her when she addresses the question to Alana rather than to him.

“If you're gentle,” Alana says. “Actually, Beverly?”

“On it,” she says, and soon Margot is using the lube after all. The angle is a little awkward, but it's totally worth it to reach back between Will's spread legs and feel her way into him. She takes it slowly, at the same speed she's rocking on his full length, buried so deep inside, watching the way his mouth stretches open in a soundless wail and then goes slack.

“You figure I'm at the right angle to find his prostate?”

“It feels pretty much like a g-spot,” Beverly tells her, “and I think if you just curl them a little more--” Will yelps, and she laughs.

“Yeah, that's it. Remember, be gentle with him.”

Margot does her best, but it gets harder and harder as she gets closer to coming. Will doesn't seem to mind, moaning and thrusting up into her as she fucks him as best she can on her fingers. Beverly leans down to suck on his nipples, and Margot helps her keep her hair out of the way, her thighs trembling as Alana circles faster and faster.

Margot has spent years training herself to be quiet, but now she cries out when she comes, an unlovely crow squawk that still captivates the others. Alana works her through it, kissing her again and again, and Will gasps, “Ohh oh god, god you're so tight, oh fuck, oh--” cutting himself off with a loud cry as he comes. There isn't enough for Margot to feel it the way some women say they can, but that doesn't matter. She rides him through it because it feels good and because it seems like the kind thing to do. When he's still at last, she slides off of him and stretches out next to him because good boys deserve cuddles.

“So,” Beverly says, after a moment, “it'd be okay if Alana and I fucked like crazed weasels like, right now, right?”

Margot laughs. “Of course it would.”

“Double-ender 'cause we both want cock after all of this?” Beverly asks, and Alana nods.

“Definitely,” she says, and Beverly bounds up to fetch a large one with a flexible rod connecting the ends. She kinks it so that she and Alana can be face to face, and Alana tenderly unties Will's wrists, kissing each one. Leaning over Margot's head, her tits hang into range and Margot has to crane her neck up to suck and nuzzle and bite as she struggles to get the second wrist undone while Beverly takes care of his ankles. Will stretches and sighs, smiling softly as Alana presses kisses to his wrists and Beverly does the same at his ankles and then the insides of his his knees.

Will reaches for her, and she crawls up to hug him, insinuating herself between him and Alana, kissing his cheek. “Baby, you ready to see again?”

“I guess so,” Will says softly, and Beverly smiles, carefully loosening the scarf around Will's eyes and then pulling it off over his head. He blinks slowly with those big blue eyes that make him so oddly fuckable for a guy.

“Hi,” Margot says, and kisses his other cheek. He blushes, and hugs them both before obediently shuffling off to one side with Margot as Beverly grabs the dildo, pushing one end into Alana with no preamble. It slides easily, and Alana moans quietly, melting back onto the mattress. Beverly fucks her for a moment, and then straddles her, sliding the other end into her own cunt just as easily, panting as she swallows it up.

Margot feels bad about abandoning Will, but she crawls over him to join the others, because she can't watch two gorgeous women rocking on a double header and kissing like it will keep the world from ending and not join in. She works her way down their bodies until she's between them, using the connector to push both ends into them, turning her head to lick at each of them in turn, comparing tastes and textures as they both pant and clutch at her hair, riding the matching purple ends faster and faster until Alana lets out something that's almost a scream and Beverly follows a moment later, both of them clinging to each other like they've washed ashore with some glorious wreck. Will reaches out and makes grabby hands and a complaining little noise. Beverly laughs slides off the dildo, rolling into Will's arms and cuddling in against his chest.

“Better?” she coos.

“Yeah,” Will mumbles, his face buried in her hair. Alana smiles, and kisses Margot, sliding off of the toy and gently herding Margot back against Beverly. Sandwiched between them, Margot lightly touches her inner lips, slick and open. Alana's hand joins hers, lightly stroking Margot, the touch soothing her into a doze.

When Margot opens her eyes again, Alana is still there beside her, but Beverly and Will are gone. There are wet wipes, an actual towel, and a steaming basin of water on the bedside table. “Morning, beautiful dreamer,” Alana murmurs, and Margot chuckles.

“What time is it really?”

“Only about half-past ten,” she says, standing up on her knees to reach over Margot for the wipes. Margot is feeling too lazy to do anything but watch, and then just lies there as Alana slowly and carefully cleans both of them up. “Will and Beverly are downstairs.”

“Is it okay if we just lurk here for a while?” Margot asks, cuddling up to Alana's clean, damp skin, and resting her head on her shoulder.

“It is,” Alana says, stroking her hair. “It is.”

They lie there together for a long time, talking quietly when they talk at all. Margot dozes again, but has to wake up before being able to go to bed for real. She's hungry and has to pee, and when she tells Alana so, she laughs, kissing her forehead. 

“I'll go fix us something,” she says, and throws on a robe, sweeping downstairs in all her glory. Margot prefers pajama sets for Mason-related reasons and utilitarian ones, and pulls hers on when she gets out of the bathroom, following Alana.

Downstairs the air smells like some kind of coconut milk soup, and Will is setting out bowls while Beverly plays a game Margot doesn't recognize. It's something bright and happy, with, as far as she can tell, no headshots. Margot never really got into gaming. It was just her blessed reprieve from Mason, cursing and fake gunfire letting her know where he would be for the next couple of hours. Now she sits down beside Beverly, who explains the whole thing with the skill and patience of a woman with five younger siblings.

Will delivers their soup a moment later, and settles on the edge of the downstairs bed to eat his own, smiling softly as Alana comes to join him. “All right?” she asks, and he nods, glancing shyly over at Margot through his eyelashes and so help her, she's going to do his makeup at some point. For now she just smiles softly at him as Beverly pauses and picks up her own bowl. The four of them sip the rich broth in comfortable silence, and Margot chuckles.

“What?” Beverly asks, eyes already bright with shared mirth.

“If tonight didn't take,” Margot says, “trying again won't be so bad.”


End file.
